


In Midnights, in Cups of Coffee

by armadillosunset



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Barista Harry Styles, Cheesecake, Fluff, I can’t with the cute, If You Squint - Freeform, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Meet-Cute, Mpreg, Mpreg Harry, Original Female Character - Freeform, Original Male Character - Freeform, POV Alternating, Teacher Louis Tomlinson, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Zayn Malik & Louis Tomlinson Friendship, and i wrote it, background ziam - Freeform, mostly Harry and Louis - Freeform, niall and Liam have like two lines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:16:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23599711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armadillosunset/pseuds/armadillosunset
Summary: Harry is a uni student with a little secret who needs a place to live.Louis enjoys his morning cuppa and needs a flatmate in order to pay his rent.Fate ensues.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 11
Kudos: 222





	1. Movin’ on Up!

**Author's Note:**

> This is an utterly self indulgent fic with pretty much no plot. Just fluff, a cute meeting, fluff, and more fluff.
> 
> Literally the three sentence summary stretched to (currently, last bit still needs to be edited) like 8k. No lie, scouts’ honor.
> 
> I have no idea where this idea came from, but it just exploded once I began typing it out.
> 
> Title from ‘Seasons of Love’ from RENT.
> 
> Enjoy ~ <3

— ( _ **Harry**_ ) —

Harry had a plan. 

It was stupid, naive, manipulative, and Harry fully understood that this plan would completely and utterly backfire in his face in a matter of days if not hours — but it was a plan. 

The idea had come to him only two days ago as he sat, sipping his rather expensive coffee in the corner of a little cafe. Harry gone there, rather than his preferred coffee shop which also just so happened to give him an employee discount, to meet with a young woman after he answered her ad seeking a flatmate. That same woman had quickly, although very politely, decided Harry would not be a good fit for a flatmate and had left just as her drink was ready at the counter. Harry simply sighed, having fully expected such an outcome, and decided to at least finish his coffee while he had a moment of peace.

He had answered what felt like dozens upon dozens of ads these last few weeks, trying to find a room for rent. And each and every one turned him away—one going so far as to slam the door in his face after glancing him over for only a second or two as he stood in the building’s hall. He wasn’t asking for much, just something he could afford and something not too far from campus for when his mostly-online classes occasionally forced him to show up in person.

The problem was, no one would give him a chance. And, really, all Harry wanted was a place to live; a place to put his things and stretch out and sleep. He wasn’t allowed to stay in the dorms at uni any more, and he couldn’t afford a whole flat on his own. His parents had, understandably he supposed, kicked him out. And as much as Niall claimed that he didn’t mind, Harry couldn’t bring himself to stay on the Irish boy’s couch more than the occasional night here and there — he was already taking advantage of the boy’s generosity in other ways, and becoming a permanent fixture in the living room was just too much.

Which meant harry was desperate. And desperation, combined with his newly acquired sleep deprivation and the constant ache in his back from sleeping hunched over in the backseat of his car, lead to him devising this crazy scheme.

If none of these people wanted to rent to Harry the way he was, then, he decided, he would pretend to be exactly the kind of flatmate that person was looking for and just withhold those few — technically ‘minor’ wasn’t a complete lie, sort of — details until after he was moved in. He knew his cover would get blown fairly quickly given the circumstances, but it would be after he paid the rent and then he’d have somewhere to stay for the next month at least. Hopefully.

Now, was he feeding himself the lie that maybe whoever he ended up living with would somehow be okay with his little white lie and let him keep living there after everything was out in the open? 

Yes, yes he was.

So when he checked the postings one last time as he downed the last drops of his coffee and found a new ad that was posted only minutes ago and seemed absolutely perfect, his newfound caffeine high thoroughly convinced him this was fate and it would all work out.

“So, yeah, this would be your room.” The man motioned inside as he opened the door — Zayn, if Harry remembered correctly, but last night had been a bad night in regards to sleep and it was a miracle that Harry was even upright and walking right now. He was an attractive man, Harry had to admit, all charm and razor-sharp cheekbones with expertly styled hair. He had a smile that could bring both women and men to their knees. And while he really wasn’t Harry’s type, not that he had a type or anything (okay, fine, he did), Harry couldn’t help but admire the view just a little bit.

Blinking the drowsiness from his eyes he surveyed the small room. A nightstand with a lamp stood beside a bare single bed, opposite a wall that housed a dark wood dresser and a set of closed closet doors. The adjacent wall offered a small window above an empty desk, sans chair. He stepped over to the closet, pulling one of the accordion doors open. It was the perfect size. He turned back to gaze the room over once more. A furnished room was the last thing Harry had expected for such a cheap rent.

And so, it was the second most beautiful thing Harry had ever seen. He probably would have shed a tear over it if Zayn hadn’t turned away to continue on with his ramblings, Harry quickly scrambling behind for the remainder of the short tour.

“You got the bathroom across the hall, kitchen right around the corner — it’s pretty much all yours too if you want, we can’t cook for shit except a frozen pizza or reheating take away. I’d mention something about access to Netflix and us having the expensive footie cable package, if you’re into that sort of thing, but that’s a situation we’re kinda working on at the moment.”

Harry took note of Zayn’s head nod toward the odd sight of a bouquet of flowers in the middle of the living room’s entertainment center, accompanied by a card... which Harry swore said ‘Sorry for your loss’.

He shook his head. Despite that single bit of strangeness, this flat was perfect. Beyond perfect, and with an even more perfect price tag. Harry wanted it, nay, needed it. Needed it like he needed air to breathe. But he also needed to play it cool, to not raise any suspicions from the man showing him around. As far as the other man was concerned, Harry was just a last year uni student looking to get away from dorm life and a roommate he was fed up with. And, really, he wasn’t lying — none of that was a lie.

There were just a few withheld truths.

“Quite the selling points you’ve got there,” Harry played along with the game he had crafted as the pair made their way back into the kitchen, where the tour had initially began.

“Be lucky I’m the one showing you around,” Zayn smirked as he took up residence leaning against one of the kitchen counters. “Lou prepared a whole speech to show this place and there was a line in there about your room having easy access to the back door in case you need to complete a walk of shame.”

Harry couldn’t refrain himself from letting out a short loud cackle. “Well, I’m definitely sold now. But you mention this Lou guy, is he...?”

“Oh, yeah, it’s Louis actually. Technically this is his flat and you’d be living with him, he’s an English and drama teacher at a fancy arts academy nearby — so definitely not a weirdo. He lets me crash here every now and again when I’m between shows. When his last flatmate moved out I offered to show the room for him if anyone wanted to see it while he was at work.”

“That’s uh... that’s very nice of you. To do that. To help pick out a flatmate for him.” Harry couldn’t believe his ears. On the one hand, he wanted to know exactly who he would be living with (for reasons, he couldn’t live with just anybody, even as desperate as he was he had a few small standards). On the other hand, this was too good to be true; if he could get Zayn to like him and convince this Louis person to let Harry move in, he may just pull off this little heist after all.

“We’ve been mates for ages, Lou and I, since we were kids. I know him like the back of my hand and I’ve got a good judge of character as to who will and who won’t piss him off.”

Oh shit. 

It took all of Harry’s willpower to keep his panic pushed down and away from his face. That neutral expression was one of the hardest faces he ever had to maintain, and Zayn kept talking. This guy was going to see through the whole charade, Harry was sure of it.

“He’s a good guy. Feisty, bit of a smart-ass, and a real drama queen if I’m being honest. But the man loves with his whole heart and then some. He’ll fight for his friends and family tooth and nail ‘til the day he dies. Just don’t call him short or interrupt him during a footie match once he gets a new telly and you two will get along just fine, I promise.”

Wait, what?

Before Harry could figure out what was going on there was a soft jingle in the air before something hit him square in the chest. He fumbled a bit, trying to grab hold of what had hit him — grace never was Harry’s strong suit, even in the best of times, and his currently drowsy condition definitely did not qualify as ‘the best of times’. Finally, he held his hand up in victory: a... set of keys?

“I — what — really?” Harry’s eyes widened in shock as they raked over the bits of shiny metal held together by a ring in the palm of his hand. He hadn’t expected this whole thing to work, nevertheless for it to be so easy — he had no idea how this had even worked. He had fully expected something to come up that would throw him out of the running for the flat: an application to be filled out and processed, a barrage of intruding questions that would make him crack, being told he’d be put in a pool of other candidates in order to find the best fit but would never hear back on a decision. Anything.

Harry could not believe his luck. Like, really couldn’t believe it.

“Yeah. Like I said, ‘m a good judge of character. Something tells me you and Lou are gonna get along just fine.”

There was a pang of guilt in Harry’s chest that this Louis guy — who seemed a decent fellow, given how Zayn spoke of him — would need to find yet another flatmate next month once he kicked Harry out. But for now, all Harry could think of was the fact he had keys to an actual flat in his actual hand. A flat with his own room for him to live in and a kitchen where he could actually cook.

After a bit more conversation — where Zayn spoke of things like rent (which Harry eagerly pulled from his wallet in cash, much to the other man’s surprise), parking (on the street, as Louis had apparently lost the second space in a game of poker awhile back), and some of Louis’... weirder aspects (“Do not bring a single avocado in here if you want to live.” “Why?” “Just don’t, Harry. Don’t.”) — Harry found himself waving goodbye with the premise of moving a few boxes in that afternoon and began his journey down the stairs.

Once he made it to the next landing, out of sight of the door from which he exited, Harry checked the time on his phone and began sprinting the rest of the way down the stairs and through the building’s lobby. The whole ordeal had gone longer than he expected, and as he broke into a run down the sidewalk to his car that was parked a couple streets over, Harry lifted up a silent prayer that no one had looked too closely into his vehicle as it sat parked against the curb.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he rounded the corner to where he had parked. There was no crowd, not even a single nosy old woman peering in, just general foot traffic minding its own business. He had guilt like no other for doing what he did, but he really didn’t have a choice; it was this and keep with the new plan — and finally get a flat, which was better in the long run, he told himself — or keep doing things the way he had been and probably be looking up new listings on his phone right now. His only other consolation in comfort was the crisp autumn air that had finally settled in the little university town.

Even so, he really, really felt like shit about doing it. At least it would never happen again. It never should have happened in the first place but, again, Harry was desperate.

With a final burst of energy Harry cleared the last bit of distance and unlocked the car. As he opened the back door, his heart shot up into his throat when a faint noise found his ears. He muttered various curses to himself as he scrambled to remove a box and a few bags to make room for him to sit. Once inside, he leaned over, peeling back a fleece blanket from the middle seat.

“Oh, honey, hey it’s okay.” Harry softly spoke amidst the whimpers that were starting to fill the cabin of the car. He quickly went about unbuckling the infant and scooped her up, letting her small body instinctively curl against his chest. She was still so tiny, practically swimming in the little pink long sleeve one piece Harry had changed her into that morning, the one with little frogs all over it. “I know, that had to be awfully scary being all by yourself. But you were so brave though, yeah, my brave little girl. It’s okay now, it’s all okay.”

The baby quieted as Harry cuddled her close and peppered her face and tiny hand and fingers with kisses.

“‘M so sorry, Daddy’s so sorry he had to leave you here. He had no choice cause Uncle Niall is — er, was in class. But,” he spoke to the infant as she nuzzled her face into the side of Harry’s neck, content, “Daddy got the flat! Yeah! He finally got his little princess a flat so now you don’t have to sleep in your car seat in daddy’s smelly old car any more. You’ll have your own bed and daddy will have his own bed and you can have warm bottles all the time now instead of just when we’re at Niall’s and no more freezing middle of the night diaper changes on daddy’s lap — I know that will definitely be your favorite part, no more chilly bum, yeah?”

Harry simply couldn’t resist, and pulled his head back to give his daughter another kiss to her squishy little cheek. “Isn’t that exciting?”

— ( _ **Louis**_ ) —

“Oh thank fuck,” Louis sighed with relief as he tucked his phone back into his pocket and continued down the lunch line.

“Your Grindr guy finally message you back?” Louis could hear the smirk in the man’s voice ahead of him before he even turned around.

“Shut up, Li. Not so loud.” Louis hissed as he watched students mill about out of the corner of his eye. It was a relatively large school, and most of these kids would never step foot in any of Louis’ classes, but these were teenagers and word spread faster than wildfire among them. Now, Louis had never denied his sexuality when confronted about it — honestly though, it really wasn’t anyone’s business what he brought home with him from time to time — but at the same time his students and fellow staff members didn’t need to know the details of his sex life (or lack thereof) thank you very much. “And no. It was Zayn. He found someone to rent the spare room in my flat. I could practically kiss him — ouch!”

Louis flinched as Liam’s hand smacked his arm, though the level of playfulness was questionable given the amount of sting Louis felt, and no he was not being dramatic about it.

“I said ‘could’, not that that I would! Jesus, Li, definitely not stealing him from you.”

“Better not,” came the mumble as Liam swiped his employee card at the register. He waited for Louis to do the same before they began their trek to the staff lunchroom. “That was awfully quick though. Didn’t you just post the ad like two days ago?”

“Yeah, and that was two days of anxiety whether or not I’d have to beg my sister for a loan to make rent this month, thank you.” Louis silently cursed his most recent former flatmate under his breath for what had to be the thousandth time in the last few weeks.

Trevor had been a good guy—stable job, proper references, didn’t throw huge parties or have excessively loud sex seven days a week—and had been living there for nearly six months before he had been late with the rent money. The man swore up and down he’d have it in a few days, he was waiting on a check to clear. However, once that few days had drawn to a close, Louis came home from teaching one day to find the spare bedroom stripped bare, the fridge emptied out, and his living room missing it’s large flatscreen TV.

Louis had been lucky that Zayn was able to drop his current art exhibit and come rushing back to help him out with last month’s rent. But the next month was around the corner sooner than Louis wanted and he needed a flatmate desperately. 

The flat wasn’t outrageously expensive, it was rather cheap actually given the neighborhood and being so close to a university, but on a recently-out-of-uni teacher’s salary it was a matter of paying full rent or affording things like groceries or electricity. Maybe in a few more years, after some additional teaching experience and a raise or two, he could afford the place on his own. But for now he was dependent on the income from renting out that spare room.

“I know you need the money, but you really shouldn’t rush into this decision and pick the first person who answers your ad.” Louis was well familiarized with his colleague’s disapproving glare — it wasn’t a proper work day if Louis didn’t earn himself at least one by time the bell rang for first period — and simply rolled his eyes in response as Liam held the door open and Louis shuffled his way through.

“Give it a rest, mother,” Louis toyed with his friend as he snagged a seat at an open table. “You and I both know Zayn’s a good judge of character. He’s just showing the lad around, it’s not like he’s going to give him the keys to the place or anything.”

Liam shook his head in defeat before diving into his salad.

“What do you mean you gave him the keys!” Louis screeched at his best mate as the young man lay sprawled out on their couch. He couldn’t believe what he heard after walking in the door that afternoon. Just couldn’t believe it.

Louis had spent the remainder of his day riding out a euphoric high from the thought that maybe his prayers had been answered and his flatmate problem would be solved. He even stopped at his favorite coffee stop on the way home for a celebratory latte and was only mildly disappointed his favorite bun-sporting barista wasn’t working — that was how happy Louis was, that there was only a simple blip of pain from missing the cute boy who gave him extra whipped topping and drew smiley faces on his cups, instead of the usual gut wrenching despair. 

He was looking forward to going home, having Zayn fill him in about the showing, and maybe call up the lad after dinner for a chat to see how’d they get along. Louis was certainly not expecting this.

“You don’t just give a complete stranger the keys to my flat without looking into them first! Especially without me meeting them! I — just — how could — Zayn!” Louis sputtered out at the end. Zayn was always more responsible than this, he knew how Louis was. Which was why Louis trusted him with this simple task.

“Chill, Lou, it’s fine. He’s a good kid.” Zayn rolled his eyes.

“A good kid. Oh, Zayn think he’s a good kid, so it’s fine. Well, Trevor was a good kid and look what happened!” Louis frantically waved behind him.

“Need I remind you that you picked out Trevor, Hmm? Oh, and Milo. And Octavian. And Greg. And — .”

“Your point?” Louis huffed as he paced the other side of the coffee table from his best mate, his arm unable to decide if they wanted to cross or wave about. This had a much better effect when there was a TV for him to be blocking the view of rather than the poorly executed memorial he had staged for his stolen telly.

“My point,” Zayn growled as he swung his legs down and sat up, his eyes meeting Louis’ and rooting him in one spot, “is that you picked these so-called ‘perfect’ flatmates. You, Lou. You’ve managed to go through four flatmates in two years, and I’ve bailed you out on late rent four times in two years —.”

“I always pay you back,” Louis muttered with a furrowed brow.

“But, the point is, I’ve had to bail your sorry ass out from flatmates that you picked. So now I’m stepping in and I’m picking this kid. Maybe he’ll actually last a whole year with you.” Zayn began to dig through his pockets before pulling out a wad of cash and tossing it to the standing man. “He moved a few things in already, I’m not kicking him out. And he paid up the full rent in cash, Lou. Cash.”

Louis counted out the bills. “Z, this is more than —.”

“The kid offered a little extra to move in now instead of the first. You’re welcome.” Louis wanted to smack the smug grin off his mate’s face. After he deposited the money. “But really, Lou. Trust me. I’ve got a good feeling on this kid.”

“He could be a serial killer for all we know!” Louis huffed as he tucked the money into his wallet. On second thought he pulled a few bills to the side; might as well order some take away with the extra week of rent money he was suddenly in possession of.

“Pretty sure ‘Harry Styles’ isn’t exactly the kind of name a murderer would have.” Harry Styles. Harry. Why did that name ring a bell? Louis shook it off, probably something similar to a lesser-known footie player on the telly or something. “Last year uni kid, I think he said for photography or some shit like that. Works a pre-dawn shift at a bakery and mornings afternoons at a coffee shop.”

“‘Photography or some shit’?” Louis laughed as he stepped around the small piece of furniture. “Says the man who went to art school or some shit.”

“Fuck off.” Zayn was unable to hold back a smile as he flipped Louis a finger while he sat down on the couch. “Honestly though, of anyone, it was Octavian who was the murderer.”

“Yeah, Tavvy was a bit... eccentric, wasn’t he?”

“Eccentric! I think the term you’re looking for is ‘batshit crazy’.”

Louis threw his head back in laughter. ‘Batshit crazy’ was an understatement for that particular ex-former flatmate of his. After Octavian moved out, Louis had to completely replace all the drywall in the extra bedroom because there was no single paint or primer in the entire universe that would cover the artistic use of oil-based, high gloss, glitter, and chalk for ramblings scrawled on the walls and ceilings. 

There was also the time Louis had walked in on the man sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor, using a paring knife to slice open the belly of a Beanie Baby as a sacrifice to... well, Louis didn’t want to know. He stayed at Liam’s place that particular weekend.

His reminiscing was cut short by the faint jingle of keys followed by the click of the tumblers in a door lock.

“Oh, that must be him now. Said he was gonna be in and out all day, bringing things in.” Zayn turned himself to face the flat’s front door that was situated behind them.

As the door let out a soft creak during its slow swing inward, Louis let out a sigh. Might as well face the person Zayn deemed worthy enough to live here, for him to live with without ever even meeting. He turned himself around on the piece of furniture only to see a man bent over out in the hall, evidently picking something up from the staircase beside the door.

At the very least, Louis mused to himself, Zayn picked a flatmate with a rather nice bum. Not all was lost.

“Hey, Harry!” Zayn’s voice was chipper as he called out. “Just in time, Lou here just got in from work!”

The man in the hall stood up and shuffled in backward, arms laden with a couple boxes and a few bags. He stumbled a bit through the door and Louis found himself getting up to help the poor lad. “Aye, why don’t I give you a hand there?”

He tried to maneuver around the man — he was rather tall up close, as it turns out — but despite being quite the footie aficionado, Louis could be a bit clumsy. By the end of their little dance, the new flatmate had lost grip of one of the bags in his hand, the parcel landing squarely on Louis’ foot.

“Oops! I’m so sorry I —.” The man’s slow, deep voice cut off as he glanced around the box in front of his face. In return, Louis’ eyes had snapped up from the bag — which was thankfully filled with something soft akin to clothes or blankets and thus didn’t hurt — at the sound of the low voice in front of him, a voice he had heard before. His eyes instantly met a pair of very familiar green ones and he was taken a back .

Oh.

Ohhh.

Well, fuck. 

You know what, Liam would just have to deal because Louis really could kiss Zayn right now.

“Hi, Harry. Fancy seeing you here.”


	2. We always could spot a friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everybody go brush your teeth after reading this chapter. Cause this fluff will rot your teeth!
> 
> And I totally didn’t break the promise about 8k — I was only in scouts for like two years, my scout’s promise wasn’t trustworthy to begin with ;)

— ( _ **Harry**_ ) —

The first time Harry had caught sight of the most beautiful pair of eyes he had ever seen was back during spring semester, not long after he was hired at the small bakery-turned-coffee-shop near campus. He had been hired to work in the back, helping to mix and bake and pack orders, as well as the general menial tasks of cleaning up and washing various bits of bakeware (and more spoons than Harry thought possible for one store to own).

Harry had been having a horrible day — as Niall would say, he was Monday-ing very hard even though it was very much a Friday. He had woken up nauseous for the first time in weeks, and it refused to subside even after throwing up. His pants were suddenly, uncomfortably, tight and he was almost late for work trying to find something more comfortable wear. On top of that, the following week was midterms and he was very much stressed about it all. The check engine light had appeared on the car dash, he forgot to charge his phone and was floating on maybe 5% battery, and when he looked down at his feet he realized in his haste he put on two completely different shoes.

Gloria had been in the middle of chastising him for not measuring something properly when Harry had had enough and turned around for a breath. That was when he saw them, those eyes, through the tiny window on the door that separated the front from the back.

Eyes that were so blue and so clear that even from this far away Harry was utterly mesmerized and under their spell. He watched as the man let out a hearty silent laugh, throwing his head back, the door muffling whatever sound there was, the corners of his eyes crinkling in delight, soft lines caressing his cheeks around a gorgeous smile. His whole face was beautiful, Harry realized, as the man’s eyes crinkled into slits, the beautiful blue no longer visible. He must be a regular, Harry concluded, the way the man was interacting with the woman taking his order, chatting and laughing.

Harry had taken a step toward the door to follow the man, now finished with his order and had stepped to the side out of view, only for a a hand to gently touch his shoulder. Gloria gave an apologetic smile and gently directed him back to the task at hand, away from the man with the beautiful eyes.

It wasn’t until a few months later that he finally got a better view of the man he had become infatuated with. Sure, Harry had seen him since then, through that tiny window — mostly on Mondays and Fridays, he had come to learn, with the occasional other day thrown in. Each time was as wonderful as the last, and each and every time Gloria or one of the other workers somehow managed to intervene before Harry could gather the courage to walk out that single door.

That fateful day, the majority of the morning crew, being uni students, had gone home for summer holidays. Harry didn’t have the luxury of returning home this year (rather, he didn’t exactly have a home to go to this time, after a heated conversation with his parents a few weeks ago), and so had been shoved up in the front with only a three-minute crash course on the espresso machine and a barely legible cheat sheet for how to make all the drinks. 

Needless to say, it was a disaster.

The morning rush seemed never ending, and Harry tried his best to fling the drinks together as best as he could, and considering he barely knew what he was doing, he thought he was doing a rather fantastic job. Sure, he had to remake a few, his fingerprints had probably seared off from handling the hot cups, and he only dropped like three drinks because the steamer attachment was kinda loud and scary, and —

“Excuse me, love. Sorry to bother you.”

Harry popped his head up over the machine, looking for the source of the voice, the thick accent catching his attention. It wasn’t one usually heard around these parts and stood out against the general chatter of the store. His eyes finally fell upon the owner of the dulcet tone and Harry couldn’t believe what he saw, his eyes widening, mouth hanging slightly ajar.

“I know you’re in the middle of a rush, but um,” the man with the beautiful eyes continued, a soft smile played on his lips, “I think you may have forgotten the vanilla in my vanilla latte?”

Harry stood frozen, mouth gaping at the sight before him. The man was even more wonderful up close, standing just on the other side of the massive espresso machine, blue eyes piercing, soft stubble grazing his jaw — Harry was such a sucker for a strong jawline, and combined with those cheek bones, hoo boy, Harry was a goner — and the accent was the icing on the cake; somehow, coming from him, the man made the sharp northern accent, well, sexy.

A loud clatter broke Harry’s concentration. “Fuck,” he hissed as the hot milk soaked into the toe of his shoe. Make that four drinks down. “Shit, I mean, um yeah. Give me a sec I’ll fix that for you— damnit.” He bent down to grab the fallen cup only for his back to give a twinge as he stood up.

“No worries. Take your time.” The man stood up on his toes in order to reach around the machine and hand over his cup, his eyes doing that little crinkle as the smile widened, the same smile Harry had always admired from afar. “New here?”

Harry decided to remake the drink rather than just add the missing syrup, if only to give him a few more moments with the stranger. “Yes and no? ‘M usually in back. It’s my first day up here working with this beast.” He gave a pat to the side of the machine after pumping the various needed syrups, his rings clinking against the metal. Where this confidence to speak was coming from, he had no idea, considering he was usually at a loss for words just looking at the man through a window.

“Ah. Gotcha. Cause, you know, I definitely would remember if I’ve seen someone like you before.”

Harry felt a blush creep across his cheeks as he adjusted one of the machine’s knobs. Was the man flirting with him? He was suddenly thankful for the massive machine in front of him, blocking the entire view below his shoulders. As he grabbed a rag to wipe the frother nozzle, he brushed his hand across his apron, where his front was protruding quite obviously and where he could feel the inhabitant incessantly wiggling about since the moment this conversation started.

Very thankful.

After popping the lid on the top, Harry snatched a sharpie off the counter, and scratched a simple smiley face on the side before he handed it back over the machine. “Here you go. Sorry about that.”

“Oh! Is this...? Really?” The man’s shocked voice pulled Harry’s lips into a grin as he peered over the machine. The order was originally for a small and Harry had taken the liberty of upgrading it to a large when he remade it. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity, after all, and Harry was running with it.

“Consider it my apology for messing up your drink.”

“Oh, well, thank you... um...”

“Harry.” No matter how hard he tried, Harry couldn’t wipe the grin off his face even though his cheeks were beginning to hurt at this point. And the the tiny foot pounding into his stomach was only amplifying the feeling of butterflies in this moment.

“Well, thank you, Harold.” The man’s eyes crinkled again, his nose scrunching up, which made him all the more cuter — Harry didn’t think that was even possible at this point. “But you really didn’t have to. Those dimples of yours are thanks enough.”

Harry choked on a bit of air. Oh... blue eyes was flirting, he was definitely flirting.

“I’ll see you around then, yeah?” The man winked as he turned toward the door and gave a small wave as he passed the front window outside.

Harry continued to stare out the window, long after the man had gone, still not quite believing what had just happened, his mouth ajar. It was the the sharp snap of Gloria’s voice (‘Harry! Snap to!’) that brought him back to the reality of the morning rush that was still very much going on around him. He went back to work, pouring this and steaming that, and if any of his coworkers noticed the smile on his face or his extra cheery disposition for the rest of his shift, they didn’t say anything.

“I just... I couldn’t believe it! It was like, all my fantasies decided to join forces and come true!” Harry called out from his place on the couch that evening, his hand buried in a bag beside him. “Like seriously, the chances, Niall!”

“I’m happy for you, Haz, really. Flirting with the man you never shut up about — what the hell are you eating?!” Niall’s head snapped back to the doorway from the kitchen, where he was putting away the grocery delivery.

“Frozen peas. Want some?” He held out the bag as he chewed a mouthful of cold, crunchy goodness.

“You’re so weird.”

“Pregnancy cravings are a legit thing, you little shit.” Harry smiled as he ate another handful of peas. He’d be lying if he said this was the first bag he had demolished in recent days — it was just the first his friend had noticed. He had wandered down the grocery store aisles late one night, hungry for something, but nothing was appealing enough to buy. Until he reached the frozen section. There, it was as if a light from the heavens was shining out from the vegetables, and the rest, as they say, is history.

Self checkout was a godsend for moments like those. Robots didn’t judge the purchase of frozen peas at half-past midnight.

“Speaking of,” Niall leaned against the doorframe between rooms, “is the star of your wet dreams aware of your... condition?” He waved a small box of pasta at the lounging man.

Harry froze mid-chew, his eyes locking with the brunette’s. Shit. He was so caught up in lusting after the world’s most beautiful man, he hadn’t exactly considered how his impending fatherhood would affect anything. He glanced down, his stomach clearly evident from his slouched position, his heart breaking maybe a little. But, right now, it wasn’t something more peas and a bit of ice cream couldn’t fix.

Ooooooh, together even. Peas and a bit of vanilla ice cream together sounded delightful.

As it turned out, that wasn’t a once in a lifetime opportunity that day. Somehow, Harry found himself out in front from that day forward, him and the massive espresso machine against the world. Something about him engaging with the customers and handling everything so well even it being his first time, winging it.

He wasn’t complaining though. Being in the front meant he could further interact with the man his heart refused to let go of. After a long internal battle with himself, Harry decided to just roll with things; to enjoy the attention from the attractive man while it lasted. Because it was nice, the attention. Every time the man came in, he’d announce his presence with with a very loud ‘Well hello, Harold!’ and that beautiful smile. He’d place his order and Harry would take his time making it, allowing for a bit of playful back and forth flirting. And every time the man would leave with a playful wink and a wave.

Harry managed to stay behind the massive machinery during their encounters, his growing belly obscured from view. He kept telling himself next time he’d bring it up, next time. During their flirting encounters, Harry had learned a great deal about the other man — Louis he eventually learned — but he always chickened out on saying anything; it was just, he was loving the attention, okay? None of the people Harry had dated, male or female, had ever been this sweet and caring, and definitely not the man that left Harry high and dry in his current situation.

The weeks passed by in that manner, the flirting continuing, and things left unsaid. It wasn’t until after he was stuck inside with Niall doting on him for nearly two weeks that his cover was blown. He loved his Irish mate, he really did, and he would forever be in that man’s debt for all the kindness Niall had shown him, but Harry was beginning to feel guilty taking over the man’s home for so long; especially after dragging another human into the picture. 

He needed out, he needed his own place to live — or, at the very least start paying Niall some rent. So the first stop in getting things moving (aside from answering various ads he had found posted online) was going in to work and begging Gloria to let him start back sooner than he ought to. 

He also really needed to converse with another adult that wasn’t Niall. 

Like, he seriously needed it for his sanity.

After dressing up his tiny newborn in the little coffee-inspired onesie Gloria had given him (Harry was not beneath being a kiss-up in this particular moment), he headed down to the coffee shop. His coworkers fawned over the little girl as Harry held her, crowding around him and neglecting their duties, not that the shop was busy at that mid-morning moment. Even so, amidst the chatter and coos of delight, Harry hadn’t heard the tinkle of the bell as the front door opened.

“Harold!” 

Harry tensed up as the familiar voice called out. He turned his head to see Louis, grinning the widest smile Harry had ever seen as he quickly closed the distance between them. Harry wasn’t panicking, per se, but he hadn’t expected the man to be in this time of day — he was a teacher, he should be at work at ten in the morning on a Tuesday. But at the same time, there was something about Louis, about seeing him, that was comforting, and the man’s infectious smile crept onto Harry’s lips.

There were a few snickers and exaggerated winks of approval as his coworkers dispersed — they all knew of Harry’s apparently not-so-secret favoritism with this particular customer.

“There you are! I was starting to think you quit on me without even saying goodbye!” Louis’ wonderful blue eyes twinkled with delight as he stepped beside Harry. “Practically heart broken, I was — well, hello there! Who’s this little cutie you’ve got with you, Harry?”

Harry was taken aback as Louis leaned over, smiling at the infant who simply blinked her little eyes back, though the man still kept a respectable distance. He decided to keep his reply simple. “Um... this is... this is Matilda. Say hi to Louis, honey.” Harry hooked a thumb under the little girl’s hand and gave Louis a small wave.

“Oh, such a lovely name for a lovely girl. Hi, Tilly! Aren’t you the sweetest thing, yeah?”

In that moment, Harry was genuinely confused with the whole situation.

Much like how he was very, very confused right now, in the doorway of his newly acquired living arrangements. Standing face to face with the very same Louis of his dreams, arms laden with what few belongings he had. 

Why hadn’t he put two and two together earlier, when Zayn mentioned the name ‘Louis’? It wasn’t exactly a common name this side of the pond, and it really should have thrown up a red flag or twelve. Clearly he had been more out of it than he thought this morning after a near all-nighter studying and soothing a sad baby (maybe she was still too young for proper emotions and maybe Harry was projecting, maybe). He should have known, somehow he should have known.

Unsure of what to do next, Harry simply scrambled toward the bedroom he would now be occupying, utilizing his superpower of making an awkward situation even worse. “I — uh — let me put this stuff down, yeah?”

He continued on without a look back, and closed the door behind him. He let out a shaky breath as he dropped his possessions on the bed. Strangely, this whole ordeal was a lot less daunting when he thought he was dealing with a random stranger.

Harry eyed the open closet, where he had set up a small portable crib, the protruding doors concealing the small piece of furniture from the doorway should anyone look in. How did he honestly think he would get away with this, sneaking a baby into a flat? It would never work. As much as his little girl was a calm baby, she still cried on occasion.

To do this to Louis just didn’t seem right.

  
— ( _ **Louis**_ ) —

“Ack! God, Lou, get off!” 

As soon as the bedroom door had clicked shut, Louis had whirled around, a grin finding his face as his eyes swept to Zayn. In a few short steps, he cleared the distance and grabbed the other man’s face in his hands, pressing their lips together.

“You are disgusting!” Zayn snarled as he pushed his best mate away, wiping furiously at his mouth with his sleeve. “I don’t even want to know where that mouth has been. And why are you grinning like that?”

“Because!” Louis gave a little hop where he stood from behind the couch, unable to contain his excitement. He waved his arms at the closed bedroom door, still grinning a stupid grin. “That’s him, Zaynie! That’s my barista boy! You picked my barista boy!”

“I say this with the utmost respect, but, what the actual fuck are you talking about?”

“I’ve only been talking about him for months!”

Louis could still remember the first time he saw the young man, almost as if it were yesterday. As a teacher, he was (like all his colleagues) counting down to blessed Friday, the end of the work week. Just one more day with the little mongrels that funded his paycheck. He loved his students, he really did, but it was near the end of the school year and more days than not he was more than happy to shoo them out the door and off to their parents. The summer holidays could not get here fast enough.

But now that it was Friday, Louis decided to stop on his way to work for a bit of caffeine to get him through the day and to celebrate making it through the week. Now, while he normally preferred a good cup of tea, tea just didn’t have quite the same pick-me-up capabilities as a good vanilla latte with a double shot of espresso and extra syrup.

While there were numerous places to stop on his walk in to work, Louis preferred to stop at this particular little cafe a few streets over from his flat. It wasn’t a chain coffee store, which made him feel good to be able to help out a small business instead of making a CEO or someone all the more richer, but the shop was also rather cozy with thrifted furniture and art pieces hung on the walls, and mismatched cups and plates should one decide to dine in. They also had fantastic scones, made fresh in the back, which didn’t hurt matters either.

Gloria was manning the registers, an unusual sight to say the least. “They got you up here today, love?” Louis gave the older woman his best smile as he dug his wallet out.

“Those little uni shits went running home to their mummies, leaving me short staffed,” Gloria huffed as she paused her register duties to bag up a few waiting pastry orders. “Happens every year but do I learn my lesson and hire replacements ahead of time? No, no I do not.”

Louis couldn’t help but chuckle at the woman’s frankness as he waited patiently for his order to be taken.

“Might be a few extra minutes for your drink. Poor boy’s never worked the ‘spresso machine before; had to throw him up here and the dear’s pretty much just winging it at this point, bless his heart.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’s doing fine.” Louis gave a final smile before stepping over to the small crowd of people waiting for their orders.

As he waited for his coffee, Louis became fascinated by the deep, slow voice that called out the drinks as they were finished. It was a sultry tone and, quite literally, music to his ears. Unfortunately, Louis wasn’t exactly able to see the man who’s voice was so intriguing. Louis wasn’t short, mind you, it was just the machinery was excessively large and it blocked his line of sight. All he could see was a chocolate brown bun bobbing around behind the machine, bits of hair having escaped their confinement and stood out in wisps from the man’s head.

He was so busy studying the bun of hair, Louis hadn’t realized his drink had been finished and was waiting for him on an open bit of counter. Once the woman behind him had retrieved her cup, Louis lunged forward, embarrassed that he had been so distracted.

As he stepped away, he took a sip, but instantly choked on the bitter beverage. The blasted man had forgot to put vanilla in a vanilla latte.

“Excuse me, love. Sorry to bother you,” he called out. Hopefully the man could hear Louis over the loud hiss of the machine. He bobbed up onto his toes, hoping to grab the worker’s attention.

What popped up over the top of the machine took Louis’ breath away. He certainly was not expecting such a handsome man to be staring at him so early in the morning, piercing green eyes cutting through Louis’ thoughts like a hot knife through butter.

Sentence. He needed to form a sentence while the man was looking at him. He cleared his throat, so as not to squeak. “I um... I think you forgot the vanilla in my vanilla latte?” He pulled on a shy, sheepish little smile as he held out his cup. There was a bit of cursing from the other side and well as a clatter of metal hitting the floor, and Louis felt bad for bothering the man but, well, his drink needed to be drinkable, you know?

“So... uh... you new here?” Louis tried a bit of conversation to get the man to bob his head back up because, wow, Louis really wanted to see those eyes again — so warm, so green, so... comforting. He’d never seen anything like them.

“Yes and no? ‘M usually in the back —.” The rest of the man’s words were drowned out by the hiss of the machine.

“Ah. Gotcha. Cause, you know, I would definitely remember if I’ve seen someone like you before.”

Okay, where the actual fuck did that line come from? Louis hadn’t intended to be so outright with the flirting — he was originally going for something closer to a simple complement, good flirting required proper buildup — it just kinda snuck out. Honest. But the reaction it got from the man making his drink? Well, it quite literally made Louis weak in the knees. Because there, right there, right exactly there, was not only the sweetest smile Louis ever had the pleasure of seeing but also a cavern of a dimple carved into the man’s cheek.

Apparently he had a thing for dimpled smiles. This was a new development that Louis decided he really needed to look into further.

The next thing Louis knew, there was a cup dangling in front of him. He did a triple take at the sight of it because while he was very sure he had ordered a small (he always ordered a small), this most certainly was not a small. “Oh. Is this...? Really?”

“Consider it my apology for messing up your drink.”

“Oh, well, thank you, um...”

“Harry.”

“Well, thank you Harold.” Louis was touched at the gesture, another smile finding it way to his lips. He dared a glance up and was nearly floored from the view before him. It wasn’t just a single dimple on that sweet face. Oh no. It was two, one on each side. Coming or going there was a glorious dimple etched into that man’s face. That, combined with the beautiful green eyes and the messy bun, Louis was certain he was looking at the face of an angel. 

Before Louis could stop himself he was speaking again. “But you really didn’t have to. Those dimples of yours are thanks enough.”

Oh god, he needed to get out of there. Now. What was wrong with him? Louis was making an utter fool of himself when he was normally so cool and collected around men he found attractive. What was so different about this one?

So as not to be rude, he gave a small wave as he exited. “I’ll see you around then, yeah?”

Once he was out the door, Louis power walked himself down the street and away from the disaster he had created in his favorite coffee shop. He replayed the entire scene in his head, cringing at himself again and again. He cringed even further once he realized he had winked on his way out the door. He winked. Fucking winked at the man!

It was settled. As much as Louis loved that place, he could never step foot in there ever again. This was his last vanilla latte and he would have to enjoy it — at least it was a large. He took a swig of the drink and choked once again — this time letting out chuckle as he finally managed to swallow.

The man had put caramel in, not vanilla.

Louis did end up returning to that particular coffee shop, out of habit, and continued returning there, as if he didn’t completely embarrass himself upon first meeting Harry. They fell into a natural rhythm of flirting with each other, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. That wasn’t to say Louis didn’t still embarrass himself with some of the things that fell from his lips, but Harry accepted them all gracefully (and with a very dimpled smile, much to Louis’ delight).

“Well everyone calls you Harry. I’m not everyone so that’s why I call you Harold.”

“Oi. Look at you, so good with your hands, yeah?”

And about three dozen others that Louis buried so far down in his mind so as to never see the light of day again.

After months of such actions, Zayn and Liam had become fed up with Louis’ incessant fonding over the handsome barista. Liam more than anything, as he was stuck working with Louis five days a week while Zayn could run away to his studio, or to Liam’s flat, or off to showcase an exhibit somewhere for a few weeks.

“For the love of god, ask the man out already!” Liam slammed his lesson planner down onto the table. He and Louis were at their desks during their allotted planning period, away from students, and while they were supposed to be working on lesson plans, Louis couldn’t help but recount that day’s interaction with Harry. “I can’t take any more of your Harry this, dimples that. He’s clearly into you because he hasn’t told you to shut up and he hasn’t found another job to get away from you. So just do it.”

“I don’t complain about you and my best mate getting it on!”

“Zayn and I,” Liam glared, “actually have something. You just keep pining over some barista who I’m beginning to wonder is even real or not.”

Louis feigned shock, throwing a hand over his heart. “How dare you say that about my Harold!”

“He’s not yours if you don’t ask him out!”

Liam may have had a point. And considering Harry usually worked Saturday afternoons, Louis figured tomorrow would be as good a time as ever.

Except, Harry wasn’t there. He wasn’t there Sunday, or Monday, and by time Louis had made it through Friday without seeing Harry, he began to worry. Because Harry was always there, had always gone along with Louis’ flirtations, and even thrown in some of his own. Had Louis crossed a line at some point without realizing it, for Harry to just up and leave? Was Liam right that Harry had gone off to find another job, with a less annoying customer base?

Even with those insecurities running about his head, Louis continued to faithfully show up every day to that little coffee shop in hopes of seeing the man of his dreams. And, every day, Harry failed to be there. After nearly two weeks of such endeavors, Louis found himself in bed one morning, unable to get up and get ready for the day. Not only did his flatmate up and leave him out of the blue, leaving him in quite the predicament, he was suddenly and utterly heartbroken over the fact he may never see Harry again.

After calling in plans for a sub, Louis laid about for awhile, mourning both the loss of his television and, more importantly, the loss of what could have been. And while he didn’t intend on going to the coffee shop that morning, he figured a fresh baked scone was the first step to curing a broken heart and they really did have the best scones.

When he stepped into the shop, Louis noticed the gaggle of employees off to the side, surrounding a tall man with long hair that curled ever so slightly. Something about the man struck Louis as being familiar, though he couldn’t figure out exactly what. But it wasn’t until a laugh rang out that Louis realized it was Harry standing there, in plain clothes and his hair down from its usual bun.

With his heart swelling from relief, Louis couldn’t help but call out to the man and rush over to his side. Harry was clearly shocked — because really, it was Tuesday and Louis ought to have been at work — though a dimpled smile still played on his lips as he turned just a bit to face Louis.

And Louis was pretty sure he could hear the brakes of the universe screeching in his ears as he looked at Harry. Long, slender arms cradled a tiny baby; so tiny, and so very new to this world, she couldn’t have been more than a week or two old, her tiny limbs still instinctively curling up (and Louis hoped he was correctly guessing ‘she’, given the pink outfit and socks being worn).

Louis had so many questions.

Unfortunately, he was no longer sure if one of those questions asked Harry if he was free for a drink Friday night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just, wow.
> 
> I’ve never had something just flow so naturally while writing. It’s kinda scary. And I came up with an even better ending, hence the bump from three chapters to four.
> 
> Chapter titles are from random old TV show theme songs.


	3. And You Knew Who You Were Then

— ( **Harry** ) —

If you had told Harry a week ago that he’d be going out on a date with the cute man who flirted with him at his job, he simply would have thought you were crazy. 

If you had told Harry he’d be going on a date with Louis after moving in with him while managing to secretly keep a near newborn in the same flat — he’d be hightailing it in the opposite direction while dialing the police emergency line to report a crazed lunatic.

“So, any plans for this weekend?”

Harry let out a shout at the sudden voice behind him, dropping the laundry basket in his hands. He scrambled after the fallen clothes, hoping Louis didn’t notice the tiny outfits half spilled on the floor that had been hidden under a couple of his shirts. The man gave an apologetic grin as Harry stood back up. 

He had been living in this flat with Louis for barely a week now and other than the fact Louis managed to move about without making a sound, living there had been... surprisingly natural. Harry thought the tension would be too much after all the flirting they had done, but there wasn’t any. There just... wasn’t. Not that the flirting stopped — it ramped up if anything now that they both had additional material from seeing each other outside of a coffee shop.

“Um... no? Work. Study I guess.” _Keep an infant happy and quiet so you don’t know she’s here because I don’t know how to tell you I lied._

While Harry had never brought up the minor detail that he was in possession of a one month old, Louis never brought it up either even though he had met said baby. Granted, Harry had never explicitly mentioned that day that Matilda was his daughter, but it’s not like people walk around with a newborn for the hell of it.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to say anything; he just didn’t know how to go about it now that it was after the fact. And rather than just rip off the bandage and get it over with, Harry kept going on as if nothing was out of the ordinary. During the day, while Louis was at work, Harry was free to just live in the flat — sit out on the couch with his little girl napping on his chest while he did schoolwork, dance around the kitchen to make her smile while her bottles heated up, let her cry for a few minutes while he finished up whatever task he was doing.

But when the evenings came around, he was torn between holing himself up in his room to appease the tiny overlord or spending the time out with his beautiful flatmate that he could actually spend time with instead of fantasizing about it. He was thankful that his daughter was a relatively happy and quiet baby, only screeching if she had been ignored for too long; instead flailing her little arms or giving small whines when she needed something. 

Even so, he found himself sneaking out in the middle of the night to change her in the car or in the laundry room, just incase she refused to settle. He snuck around doing most things, as if taking care of his daughter was a crime he was trying to get away with. The closet had been converted to a tiny nursery, which Harry was rather proud of given the sheer amount of organization the tiny space required in order to fit everything baby related.

“Let’s go out, you and me, Friday night. There’s a nice little Italian place across the street. Celebrate your moving in.” Louis sipped a beer as he leaned against the wall in the hallway.

Harry smirked. “Do you ask all your flatmates out on a date right after they move in?”

“Only the tall attractive ones that seduce me with their latte skills.” Louis did his little nose scrunching face that made Harry’s stomach fill with butterflies. “And it’s only a date if you want it to be.”

Harry paused, pretending to think it over. He was honestly surprised he didn’t just shout ‘YES!’ and grab Louis by his shirt collar before kissing him right there.

But that little outburst would have woken the baby who had just gone to sleep. Not to mention bring up that whole conversation.

Instead he simply gave a wink before turning the knob of the back door. “Considering you live here, you better not be late picking me up.” And he was out the door. In the silence of the hall, Harry let out a sharp laugh, slapping a hand over his mouth. He had no idea he even had that amount of flirt in him.

“Is that a ‘yes’?” Came Louis’ voice, muffled from the other side of the door.

“Yes, Lou.” Harry called back with a smile as he began his trek down to the laundry room.

He was going out. On a date. With Louis fucking Tomlinson (and, hell, maybe he’d be fucking Louis Tomlinson too, but he was getting ahead of himself here). Harry hadn’t gone out on a real date in, well, years. Not since his first year of uni, if he really thought about it — and to be honest those were just polite precursors for a hookup. He never technically dated his daughter’s other father; that whole situation was unusual and complicated.

Hold on — the baby. Harry needed to find someone to watch her, he couldn’t just leave her alone indefinitely while he was off selfishly gallivanting with a man. He still felt pangs of guilt from when he left her alone that one day; to do it again was just plain irresponsible.

There was always Niall. But Niall couldn’t be Harry’s answer for everything. Niall was the answer when Harry needed a place to stay when he couldn’t go back to the dorms — to his dorm. Niall was the answer when Harry needed to be taken care of when he’d gotten out of the hospital. Niall was the answer to his childcare problem when he needed to go to somewhere and couldn’t bring the baby with. Niall had been the answer for every single thing Harry had been through for the last six months, every stroke of luck and every sticky situation. Harry honestly felt like he was taking advantage of his friend, even though said friend would hear nothing of it.

But it wasn’t like there was anyone else Harry could ask. Well, none that he trusted to watch the most important thing in his life for a few hours, anyway. Niall, it was.

“You mean to tell me you’re actually going on a date?!” Niall shouted over the phone later that day. Harry had originally texted his question but the reply had come in the form of a phone call and a very loud Irishman. “Harry Styles, going on a date. Jeez, let me sit down here. Gotta let this sink in.”

“With Louis,” a smile played at Harry’s lips as he sat on the edge of his bed, watching his little girl calmly lay on the bed beside him.

“You’re going on a date with Louis! Thank god I’m sitting down now, thank god.”

“So, can you watch her? For a few hours, I’m sorry to keep asking you for things—.”

“Ah, shut it Harry. I don’t mind. You know I’m more than happy to watch my goddaughter for the night.”

A heat suddenly found it’s way to Harry’s face. “No, just a few—.”

“Please, Harry. Do not assault your daughter’s innocent ears with whatever noises are going to be filling that flat after your date. She’s too young for that. She’ll stay here.”

Harry muttered a series of thanks before hanging up and dropping his face into his hands.

He honestly hoped things would go well, between him and Louis. And part of him knew they would, they would go more than well. In another time, another universe, this would be the beginning of something wonderful. It has the possibility of being the beginning of something in this time and universe, if it wasn’t for the situation Harry needed to fix, the hurdle he still needed to cross in telling Louis about his daughter.

The remainder of the week flew by. Harry decided to let himself enjoy this, this giddy feeling that often accompanied anticipated first dates. He very much liked Louis, and he wanted to enjoy going out with someone, especially someone he was looking forward to for so long. After, he would tell Louis. Maybe this weekend, or this week sometime. But it would be after their dinner tonight.

However, the universe (especially this universe) had a habit of throwing Harry’s plans wildly off course.

His first clue that today was going to be awful should have been that Louis had woken up before him. This was strange because, in the short time they had lived together, Harry had learned Louis was very much not a morning person — and, even so, Harry left rather early in order to serve the general morning rush. Unless it was Harry’s day off, they never crossed paths until Louis came in for his morning latte — which had now become a daily routine (‘daily’ as in, only the days Harry worked apparently).

Normally, Harry took his time waking up in the morning, padding around to the kitchen to flick the switch on the electric kettle and setup both his and his daughter’s breakfast — a large cup of tea with a leftover something he brought home from work the day before and a bottle of formula, respectively. He’d then go back to scoop up the little girl and change her just as the kettle began to steam. They’d dine together and then it would be time for Harry to take a shower before heading out to work.

So when he walked into the kitchen this morning to find the kettle already on and Louis sitting at the table with his laptop open, Harry came to a screeching halt. Well, this was one way to wake himself up.

“You’re up early,” Harry coughed. He looked around, trying to figure out how to prepare a bottle in the rather small space without Louis noticing.

“Yeah yeah, forgot the superintendent’s supposedly coming around today. Need to finish this PowerPoint presentation so I actually look like I have my shit together when I teach instead of winging it like I usually do.” There was a flurry of tapping keys. “Sorry if I’m in your way or anything.”

“No, you’re fine, just surprised is all.” Harry gave a quick smile as he poured hot water over a tea bag and scurried back to his room. Louis being awake may have thrown a wrench in his routine, but Harry would be damned before he gave up his morning cup.

“Look, I know I promised you warm bottles when we moved in,” Harry whispered while he hurriedly dressed the infant as she lay on his bed, carefully threading her arm through the sleeve of her clean outfit. He needed to get out the door before she started to fuss from hunger, which should be any minute now. “But we’re gonna have to make an exception today, okay princess?”

He shouted a quick goodbye to his flatmate as he raced out the door. He had a flashback to not so long ago as he sat in the backseat of his car, feeding his daughter (who was reluctant of the room-temp meal, being spoiled by the bottle warmer Niall had gifted, but eventually caved out of hunger) as the vehicle warmed up. Harry decided to treat himself to something from the shop for breakfast, given how the day was starting off.

And so began the second clue.

“Gloria’s out today, hun.” Melinda, the second in charge as she often reminded every one, snapped her gum as Harry settled himself in for the start of his shift, tying his apron.

“Huh? Oh. Okay.” He glanced down at the carrier at his feet, where the little girl lay, contently sleeping off a full tummy. Gloria usually watched the baby while he worked. She didn’t have any kids, or grandkids, of her own and had taken a shine to Harry’s when he brought her in to visit. “I guess I’ll just —.”

“So someone’s got to pack all the delivery orders and start on the stuff for tomorrow.” She continued on, ignoring Harry as she made her own drink. “You can do it, I’ll work the front.”

Harry stood, his mouth gaping, speechless. He didn’t necessarily hate doing the bakery work, he loved it — there were times he missed it, to be honest — but he had gotten quite accustomed to being up in front, to chat with the regular customers. And Louis. If he was going to be in back all day, he wouldn’t see Louis get his morning coffee.

He’d be seeing Louis tonight though, and that made up for the lack this morning, Harry supposed.

“Ready to help Daddy box up a bunch of stuff?” He asked the dozing infant as he carried her into the back and set her down in the little play pen Gloria had set up near one of the tables.

Signs three and four came one right after the other, as Harry shoved a hand into his back pocket to grab his phone. He was going to send Louis a funny-yet-whiny text about being stuck in the back and couldn’t make the man’s latte, but his phone wasn’t in his back pocket — or any of his other pockets. He was about to run out and search the car when he recalled that, in his haste to leave this morning, he had never grabbed the device from where it was charging on the nightstand.

It was just as Harry finished groaning that he heard a series of tiny coughs. When he stepped over to check on the baby, it finally clicked in Harry’s mind that it was going to be a shit day, one of those days where everything went wrong. He stared down at the infant who was now beginning to cry, though Harry found that understandable given she had managed to cover her entire front with spit-up. “Alright. Let’s clean you up. Then we have cookies to pack, yeah?”

Somehow he made it through his shift with no other mishaps (Harry refuses to acknowledge the entire tray of muffins dropped straight out of the oven as a mishap — they were lemon poppyseed, and absolutely no one likes lemon poppyseed so it really wasn’t a loss dropping them). He even managed to pop his head out the door to give Louis a wave, to which the other man squawked that now some imbecile would be making his drink — and Melinda’s reaction sent them both into a fit of laughter.

He had spent the rest of the day as usual: lunch before leaving work, run an errand or two, and back home in time to log onto his online class. The line at the Tesco had been absurdly long and Harry had just enough time to dump his purchases on his bed in exchange for his laptop before he needed to be online, singlehandedly logging in and setting up while balancing a wiggling baby in his other arm. It wasn’t until after his class Harry had a chance to take a breath.

“I hope you’re paying attention to some of these lessons. Save your old man a bit of money on your uni tuition, hmm?” Harry smiled as he kissed the little girl’s head while he stood up from the couch and made his way back to the bedroom. He made quick work of putting away his purchases in his makeshift closet nursery, a good portion of his recently deposited paycheck gone to restock the necessities. 

It was while he was cutting tags off a few clearance outfits he’d picked up on a whim — for whenever she decided to grow out of the newborn clothes that were still fitting just fine a month later — that his phone chirped, signaling a message received. He had been in too much of a hurry to check it when he got home, and now snatched it from where it sat, plucking the cord from the wall.

Harry was taken aback by the slew of missed calls and unread texts that were waiting for him — evidently he picked the wrong day to leave his phone at home, he was in high demand today. There was a few from Louis, one from Gloria, a missed call from his mum (to which he shook his head, but couldn’t bring himself to block her, it was his mum after all); but the majority of them were from Niall.

“No. No, no, no, Niall...” Harry muttered to himself. Without even looking at the first text or listening to the first voicemail, he felt his stomach drop to his knees. Deep down, he already knew what he was going to read as he tapped the icon on the screen.

— ( **Louis** ) —

“Am I putting too much thought into this? It’s just a first date.” Louis turned around in front of the mirror that hung off the back of Liam’s bedroom door, eyeing his form. He had brought a series of outfits with him, unable to decide what he wanted to wear before he left for work that morning. “I mean, it is the man of my dreams after all. But is it crossing a line?”

Liam’s eye roll reflected in the mirror as Louis turned to the side. “You’re about to go on a date with your new flatmate and you’ve thrown half your closet on my floor when you don’t even live here. Lines were crossed ages ago.”

With a scowl, Louis yanked off the grey v-neck and, after rummaging a bit, pulled on a cabled cream sweater. The nose scrunch of disapproval remained as he turned once more. No, this wouldn’t do either, it was too ‘cozy winter evening with a cuppa’. He yanked that one off too, tossing it back in the pile.

“I need something simple, but put together. Something that says ‘I really like you and want to get to know you but I also wouldn’t mind you in my bed by the end of the night’.”

“Maybe just show up naked with a bottle of red.”

“Liam! This is serious!” Louis chucked one of the discarded shirts at the other man. 

“And you’re being a serious pain in the ass.”

“LI. AM.”

“You know what? Fine.” Liam scooted off the bed and dug into one of the clothing piles. He shoved pieces at Louis without even looking up. “Here. These pants. This shirt. And... this jacket.”

“You know, I think you may be on to something here.” Louis commented, looking over the selections.

“I literally pulled out three random — god, Louis! Let me turn around before you take your pants off!”

If anything, Louis’ indecisiveness had bought him some time. He had a couple hours to kill between leaving the school and when he was ‘picking up’ Harry. Enough time to figure out what he’d wear — usually it was Zayn giving him advice, but the man had picked the worst time to hole up in his studio on a wave of ‘artistic inspiration’ — ‘bullshit’, more like — and to work out his nerves before the actual event.

Even so, Louis found himself a bit jittery as he swiped his card at the corner store and left with a small bouquet of flowers. His heart was racing, tucked up in his throat as he pulled into his spot and put the car in park. As he climbed the stairs, he fought the urge to run back down, panic settling in as he laid eyes on the door. 

What was it about Harry that made Louis turn into such a... a mess? He was always the confident one on a first date. Always cool and collected as the other person fidgeted and made nervous small talk. But now he stood, taking a deep breath as he knocked on the door — his own door, for fucks sake. He thought it would be a romantic gesture, showing up at their door to take Harry out rather than shouting across the flat if the other was ready yet, or awkwardly avoiding each other until it was time to leave.

He tried yet again to calm his nerves as he waited for Harry to answer, glancing down at himself. Plain jeans paired with a simple white shirt and a brown corduroy jacket, a rather smart ensemble he thought with a smile. He tried to picture what Harry would be wearing, to keep his mind occupied, what kind of style the man had for special occasions. Louis had only ever seen the man in his work uniform — a black apron over a white shirt and rather form-fitting khaki pants — or lounging about in flannel pants or joggers and old band shirts.

What he didn’t anticipate seeing, as the door opened, was Harry’s eyes rimmed red and cheeks wet with tears.

“Oh, Lou, sorry I —,” the man sniffed, brushing a hand through his hair as he averted his eyes.

“Haz! What is it? What happened?” Louis pushed his way in, dropping the flowers to the floor as he cupped the tall man’s face in his hands. His mind began to race as to what could have happened in the few hours since he had seen Harry at his work.

Harry tried to smile, but Louis could tell his spirit wasn’t in it. He shook his head, gently pulling Louis’ hands away. “Just um... a bad day, yeah. There’s something —.”

“Well, it’ll get better. I’m gonna make it better. We’ve got dinner reservations, and the cheesecake they serve solves any worldly problem; tested it myself on many an occasion.” Lou grinned, hoping his smile could somehow cheer the beautiful man up. He swooped down, picking up the flowers and holding them out. “For you.”

Instead of accepting the flowers, Harry began to quietly cry, swiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. Shit. Were roses too much? Maybe he should have went with the wildflowers, something simpler, lighter.

“I-I can’t go tonight.”

What? Louis’ eyes widened as he heart sank to his knees. Was Harry dumping him before they even started? He searched Harry’s face for any sort of clue, trying to will an answer out of the man, but Harry just trained his gaze on the floor.

“I just... my sitter bailed on me and there’s no one else who can watch her. I’m sorry, Lou, I’m so sorry.”

Before Louis could form a question, Harry retreated with a single sob, leaving Louis standing at the door, dressed up with no where to go. He stared blankly at the hall, where Harry disappeared, trying to gather his thoughts on what the hell just happened. Everything had been going well, Harry was fine this morning — excited even.

After a few moments, when he was still completely dumbfounded at the whole chain of events, he slowly made his way in the direction Harry had gone, tossing the flowers on the kitchen table as he passed. He found the man’s bedroom door open, and upon peering in, he found Harry on the floor leaning against the dresser, cradling a baby to his chest. He silently watched as Harry sat, occasionally sniffling as he stroked the infant’s back. That answered the question Louis had about a sitter at least. But a dozen others took its place. 

His mind flashed back to the night Harry moved in, when Zayn had woken Louis up asking if he heard something, a baby crying, but Louis just shoved his mate and went back to sleep. There were other nights, when he had in fact heard a small cry, but pushed it off as being one of his neighbors — he vaguely remembered the woman upstairs being pregnant at some point. 

But then Louis remembered the day at the coffee shop, with an awkward Harry holding a newborn. Was this her? It had to be.

As he continued to think, puzzle pieces Louis had never even realized were scattered about were suddenly fitting together. How Harry could never go too long without popping into the back half of the flat for something. How the man always snuck in and out of the back door, sometimes in the middle of the night. The early work shifts. The sudden shift to an online education after three years of uni.

Had Harry been trying to sneak the little girl in? Why?

As if Harry could hear Louis’ thoughts, he spoke without looking up, his voice barely a whisper. “This wasn’t how I wanted to tell you.”

“May I come in?”

Harry simply nodded without looking up. “It’s your place,” he mumbled.

Slowly, as though Harry were a wild animal he didn’t want to scare away, Louis stepped into the room, taking a seat in front of the other man on the floor, leaning against the foot of the bed. He had never nosed about the room while Harry was out — there was such a thing as privacy and Louis respected that it was Harry’s space though the lease was in Louis’ name — so he was surprised to find the contents of the closet consisting of baby necessities and an explosion of pink.

So Harry was trying to hide a baby. It still didn’t answer the question of ‘why’, though.

Harry remained quiet, where he sat, the only noise the soft brush of his hand on the baby’s back and the occasional tiny happy noise from the baby herself. Louis couldn’t help but smile at the pair. In an attempt to lift the mood, he raised a brow to pose a question.

“You know, as a gay man, don’t you find it a bit ironic that your baby sleeps in a closet?”

It worked, a small smile finding Harry’s face for a moment before disappearing. A start, a step in the right direction.

“It is your baby isn’t it? You didn’t like, kidnap her or anything, right?” Louis nudged the man with the toe of his shoe. “Cause, I mean, if you did, lets get our stories straight before the cops show up, yeah?”

“No,” the smile returned as Harry finally risked a glance at Louis, the tension finally fading, “definitely mine. I... I wanted to tell you. I just... one thing led to another and I didn’t know how.”

“Well, we can talk over dinner. We’ve still got reservations. And quite honestly, besides having dinner with the most attractive man I’ve ever seen, I have been clinging to the hope of cheesecake all day.”

Harry blinked. “Lou, there’s no one to watch —.”

“So bring her along! It’s a family restaurant, they probably have a high chair or something, or we can hold her.” Louis leaned over, taking hold of the infant’s tiny hand. Large brown eyes gazed back at him, taking in the sight of the strange man that was clearly Not Daddy. “Cutest third wheel in the history of dating, I’d say.”

“But it wouldn’t be fair to you —.”

“Shh. Carbs and cheesecake, Harold. Carbs and cheesecake.”

It hadn’t taken much more convincing to get Harry to change and head out to dinner (“Really, Harold, I love kids, it’s more than fine!” “Cheese. Fucking. Cake.” “Don’t swear in front of the baby!”), and soon the pair found themselves making the short trek across the street, their destination the cozy Italian restaurant Louis had sung praises of. 

Harry cleaned up rather nicely — not that he wasn’t normally well dressed, the man made plain white shirt and sleep pants look sexy — donning simple black skinnies, a squishy olive green sweater with boxed shoulders, and his hair pulled up into the simple bun Louis had taken such a liking to. Even the baby had a fresh outfit, something in a soft pink with tiny gold flowers that stood out against yet complemented Harry’s dark top as he held her. 

When they had stepped out of the back half of the flat, Louis could no longer contain himself, tipping up onto his toes in the middle of the kitchen for a kiss, before they even left. Harry happily obliged, though the little girl gave a disapproving grunt at being left out of the affection. “Certainly can’t forget about you,” Harry commented as he kissed her head, and Louis gave a soft tug to her little foot.

“So, you’re telling me that Zayn,” Louis cackled over his plate of alfredo, “Mr. I-Can-Read-People-Like-A-Book, had absolutely no clue, none, that you were planning to secretly harbor a child in my flat? Oh! Sorry, love!” He swiped his thumb at the drop of sauce that splattered on the infant’s cheek as he held her. 

While waiting for their entrees to arrive, Harry had handed the infant over to Louis in order to run to the washroom. In those few short minutes, Louis had managed to fall for the sweet little girl — Matilda, Tilly, as Louis thankfully remembered before having to awkwardly ask Harry — as she gazed up at him, blinking eyes, tiny nails clawing at his shirt. 

He had held his fair share of babies over the years, between younger siblings and friends having kids, but never had one managed to captivate him quite like this one. So when she smiled at him — it was a reflex from his smile at her, he knew, but a smile’s a smile damnit and it was cute, okay? she even had a tiny dimple for fuck’s sake — Louis knew he was a goner. When Harry returned, Louis had refused to give her back, much to Harry’s surprise.

“Guess I’m a good actor,” Harry smirked as he twirled his fork.

“I am so holding this over his head. He thought he was one-upping me, that he could pick a better flatmate — I mean, you are better, the absolute best, wouldn’t trade you for nothin’, don’t get me wrong — but he let this slip past his radar!”

Later, as they finally dined over the long awaited dessert, Louis took note of Harry’s glances at him.

“It’s just... you’re taking this so well.” He nodded at the infant, now asleep, still nestled in Louis’ arm. “I essentially pulled a fast one on you and... you’re fine with it? Not that I want you to kick me — us — out but... I dunno.”

Louis simply shrugged his shoulder as he shoveled another bite into his mouth. Try as he might, Louis just couldn’t bring himself to be mad over what happened. Sure, Harry had lied and flat out withheld information, but he had his reasons. Maybe he was biased by being hopelessly attracted to the man, but Louis couldn’t fault him for being frustrated when all Harry wanted to do was put a roof over his daughter’s head.

“Also,” Harry continued, poking at his plate and licking the fork, “now you know I have a kid, and I just figured that would complicate things. Between us.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’ve gotten on quite swimmingly,” Louis pointed his fork down at the baby. “And I mean, I still like you, Harold. I’d very much like to keep this — us — going.” He took another bite of his cheesecake. 

The next morning Louis woke up slightly dazed with what felt like a dead weight on his chest. Looking down, he found Harry curled into his side, a head and long arm draped over his bare chest, hugging Louis tightly in his sleep. Louis smiled as he trailed a hand across the man’s bare shoulders before running his finger through the mess of brown curls.

‘ _While we’re on this Honesty Train tonight,’ Louis had circled his arms around Harry’s waist from behind and hooked his chin on the man’s shoulder as they gazed down into the small crib at the sleeping child, ‘I was very much hoping to get you into my bed tonight.’_

_‘Who says that can’t still happen?’ Harry replied, with a particular gleam in his eye as he glanced over his shoulder._

Louis could have laid there all morning, watching the man sleep. That had been his plan, at least, until a noise crackled through the baby monitor that had ended up somewhere on the floor in last night’s haste. He groaned as the noise came through again.

“Haz, your kid’s awake.” Louis not-so-gently poked the other man until his eyelids began to flutter.

“Oh, so when she’s awake and crying she’s my kid,” Harry smirked as he rolled over, stretching his arms over his head. “What time is it?”

Louis glanced at his nightstand. “Shit, only like six-fifteen.”

There was a soft chuckle as Harry sat up. “Swear to god I gave birth to a little clock.” He slid on a pair of boxers before making his way to the hall. “You could set your watch to this one.”

Louis smiled at Harry’s retreating form and gave a stretch of his own — wait a second. Wait one goddamn second. Bolting upright in bed, he stared at the empty doorway, replaying the short conversation in his head. Did Harry just say...? Did he really..? No. No, Louis didn’t believe what he thought he heard. He quickly dug out a pair of joggers from the closet, hopping into them as he raced down the short hall, skidding to a stop at Harry’s open doorway.

“Did you say...” Louis gasped, trying to catch his breath. “Did you just say you... ‘gave birth’?”

Harry shot a questioning look as he laid the infant down, preparing to change her. “Yes. That’s how babies tend to get born, Lou; someone gives birth to them.”

“I know, I know, biology and all that shit. I mean,” he was still gasping for air even after that short distance, “I mean... you? You did... that?”

“She is my daughter—.”

“I thought it was a custody thing!” Louis sat down on the bed and softly brushed the little girl’s head as she made soft noises, clearly displeased with her current state of undress.

“I mean, it’s that too, technically. But, yeah, I carried her.” He glared at Louis. “Of everything, this is what you’re hung up about? Me having been pregnant?”

“Not that, no. I mean, I know it’s possible — rare, but possible. It’s just,” Louis flopped back on the bed, throwing an arm over his eyes. “I clearly have no shame. None. I publicly flirted with a pregnant man! For months!”

From the darkness there was a low chuckle. “In your defense, you didn’t know. I was hidden behind an espresso machine.”

Louis risked a peek from under his arm only to see Harry grinning. “You Styles’ and your damn dimples, luring in innocent men.”


	4. We’re Gonna Make Our Dreams Come True

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so domestic, I’m sorry.
> 
> FYI: Anne and Robin aren’t Harry’s parents in this fic. They’re too wonderful of people.

Harry had a plan. 

It was spontaneous, somewhat sneaky, a little bit genius, and rested solely on the shoulders of a three year old to be executed properly. So, probably not the greatest plan in the world, Harry could admit. But it was a plan.

“Do you understand what to do?” Harry asked as he gathered up the empty cups and wiped at a few drops on the table with a napkin.

“Mhmm!” The little girl smiled widely as she kicked her legs under the table, small feet dangling off the ground.

“And you’re not just saying that because I bought ice cream, yeah?” He winked.

“No, Daddy, I know!” The little girl scrunched her nose as Harry stood up to deposit the trash in its bin. The girl had somehow managed to pick up that particular facial expression from Harry’s live-in boyfriend, which made Harry smile every time she made it. It was even cuter when they did it together, side by side, though it usually meant Louis was sassing him about something or another.

“Okay. Come on then, let’s head home.” Harry smirked as he held out his hand, large to the girl’s tiny one that reached up and slid into his grasp.

The pair made their way out of the ice cream shop, the little girl skipping along. She waved to everyone they passed on that warm early summer day, humming a tune of her own making as they walked. Harry wasn’t sure what he had done in life to earn himself such a wonderful daughter, so carefree and easy going, yet she listened — usually, she was three after all — when either of the men in the house directed her on something.

He was equally as stumped when he tried to figure out how he ended up with Louis as well. No, he knew the how — he had even bought a nice espresso machine as a joke for their first anniversary — though, the joke’s on him because now Louis makes him use it every morning — the question was why. Any normal man would have run away from Harry twenty times over at this point, to which Louis would reply with a kiss and say he wasn’t a normal man. 

Louis had been there for everything. From first steps to first words to first tantrum over a broken banana. From the first scraped knee when Harry wanted to run to A&E, to the first day of nursery when it was a tight race over who was crying more, to the first time Harry broke down in the middle of the kitchen overtired and overwhelmed by everything.

He only wished he could say the same for his parents. While his sister did eventually come around, and the two now have regular sleepovers and FaceTime chats, he couldn’t say the same for the two who raised him. His mum tried reaching out a few times over the years, but when she refused to acknowledge her granddaughter, Harry had decided to only reach out with a quick call at the holidays and leave things at that.

What his daughter lacked in family from Harry, she more than made up in family from Louis. The man’s entire pack of a family embraced the little girl from the start, welcoming her as their own and spoiling her rotten. Jay more than made up for Matilda’s other, missing, grandmother, and all of Louis’ sisters constantly played with her and showered her in gifts. Nary a week went by that Tilly didn’t beg to go play with her aunt and uncle who were only a year or so older than her.

As Harry turned the key in the lock he was nearly knocked over as the girl squeezed by his legs, darting into the flat. He simply chuckled to himself as he closed the door behind him, the sound of little feet pounding on the floor.

“Lou-Lou!” The girl called out, a bit too loud for inside but Harry said nothing.

“On the couch, love,” came the reply, the voice forever music to Harry’s ears.

Harry had made it down the hall just in time to see his daughter launch herself onto Louis, into his waiting arms. The man let out a small ‘oof’ as she made impact, wrapping his arms around the child. Harry flicked his eyes to the telly, a footie match playing on the screen. His daughter was the only person who could interrupt Louis while he watched his matches and live to tell the tale. Even Harry had received a few handslaps over the mouth and not-so-polite shushes over the course of their relationship after talking at the wrong time.

No one was allowed to interrupt footie time. For anything. Ever.

Except Matilda.

“Hey, pumpkin!” Harry could hear the smile in the man’s voice, then high pitched giggles as Louis planted a kiss on the girl’s cheek, the scruff of his face tickling her soft skin. “How was the park?”

“Good! Daddy bought us ice cream!”

“Ice cream!” Louis tipped his head back on the couch, his eyes finally meeting Harry’s as he finished closing the space between them. “Oi! Where’s my ice cream, Harold?”

“Oi!” Came a little echo. She had picked that up too, calling out ‘oi’. There was a phase where the little girl had walked around the flat just saying it over and over, sometimes at the most random moments that left Harry and Louis in fits of laughter.

Looking between the two of them, Harry understood how people could honestly think Matilda was Louis’ daughter too — it didn’t help that she spoke in a strange combination of Harry’s drawling Geordie and Louis’ sharp Yorkshire accents. It happened fairly often when they were all out together, people would just assume, not that Harry minded. He was happy that Louis loved the little girl as if she were his own, so much so that the love was clearly evident to strangers. While she had most of Harry’s looks — lightly curled hair, the Styles nose, long slim hands — her sandy brown hair, the bit of golden color to her skin, and her unwavering outgoing personality could easily be attributed to Louis and not her actual father.

Harry had seen the other man exactly one time, when his — their — daughter was about a year old. They were out grocery shopping one Saturday afternoon and Harry spotted Alec at the hot food bar as he rounded the corner of an aisle and suddenly stopped, Louis running into his backside, the baby in the basket laughing at the sight. Harry still isn’t sure why he held Louis back from marching up to the man, making a scene. He should have unleashed the furious and fuming Louis when Alec met Harry’s eyes with a smirk before he pulled another man close and gave him a peck on his cheek before walking away hand in hand.

He should have let Louis have a go at the man. The man Harry stupidly thought had loved him, and had spent the majority of his uni time with, holed up in their dorm. The roommate who had knocked Harry up, who was too afraid to admit he was gay beyond the threshold of their room, who got Harry kicked out of the dorms on a blatant lie. The same man who was now out in a very public Tesco cuddling up with another man.

He should have let Louis have at it. Would have been worth getting thrown out of the local grocery store.

It took a month for Harry to step back in that particular store again. And now he does the shop early Monday mornings — very early.

“Should have come with,” Harry teased as he leaned over the back of the couch to give Louis a kiss. He was quite fond of Lou’s stubble, personally. Something about the scratchy-prickly-ness just did it for him.

“Hey, Lou-Lou?” The girl shifted in Louis’ lap, throwing a leg on either side of his, wrapping her small arms around the man’s neck.

Louis released Harry’s lips and turned to the girl. “Yes, Tilly-bean?”

“Can you be my Papa now?”

Harry choked on air as he leaned on his arms. The obsession had come from a day at nursery, where Matilda had taken in a picture of the three of them for a little project and the class talked about different kinds of families. It wasn’t that the two adults in her life were men that bothered her; no, it was why she had a Daddy and a Lou-Lou. Why didn’t she have two Daddies (“Well, you certainly call me—.” “She doesn’t need to know that!”)? Why didn’t she have a Daddy and a Papa? Why was it Daddy and Lou-Lou? Nobody else has a Lou-Lou. Why was it Lou-Lou and not Papa?

Why couldn’t Lou-Lou be Papa?

“We’ve talked about this, love,” Louis brushed a stray curl behind the child’s ear, her face eager for an answer. “I’m only your Daddy’s boyfriend. But I still love you loads and loads because you’re the sweetest girl in the whole world, yeah?” He paused for a moment, giving the girl’s sides a quick tickle. With a gasp she giggled a bit before flopping against Louis’ chest where he held her close. “Besides! You know how many people in the world have a Papa? A bajillion! And how many have a Lou-Lou? Just one. So that makes what we have super extra special.”

The subject of what Louis should be called came up long before that day at nursery. Harry had tried to have the conversation as to who was going to be Daddy and who was going to be Papa, now that the baby was understanding that objects had names. But Louis was having none of it.

“I’m just your boyfriend, Haz.”

“You’re not just my boyfriend. I love you, I want you to be a part—.”

“Yeah, and the day you smarten up and leave me you’ll have to retrain her to call someone else Daddy or Papa and it’ll be weird.” Louis was joking, Harry knew. Everything was so good, so perfect, so natural between them, that breaking up would never be something that happened.

“I’m not caving until we’re married.” Louis continued. After a second, he threw a finger in the air as Harry opened his mouth to speak. “And don’t you dare propose to me now. Or tomorrow. Or next week. Or for a while, you understand? I want to be surprised.”

That was over two years ago.

“Matilda,” Harry gently cupped his daughter’s face, gaining her attention. “You gotta say it like we practiced.”

“Okay, Daddy,” she sighed as she pushed off Louis’ chest, sitting up once more.

Louis glanced beside him, up at Harry who still stood behind the couch. “Harry? What —”

“Hey, Lou-Lou?”

“—are you talking about—“

“Lou-Lou!”

“—practicing — ouch!” Louis scrunched his face as he yanked the girl’s hand away from where she had, not so softly, poked him in the cheek. “Not nice! We don’t poke people like that, yeah? But... you have my full attention now. So. Yes, Tilly?”

“Um?” Matilda glanced at Harry for a moment. He nodded. “Lou-Lou can you marry Daddy so you can be my Papa?”

Harry chuckled as he stepped around the arm of the large piece of furniture. It was close enough — about the best he could have expected from a near four year old.

Louis raised a brow in question at the child. It wasn’t the first time she had said something along that line.

What was a first, though, was Harry sitting beside Louis and opening the small red box he had pulled out of his pocket. “Whaddya say, Louis?” He waited for Louis’ head to turn, for his eyes to see the ring nestled in the box, for his mouth to hang slightly open as it did when he was truly caught off guard. “Marry me?”

Louis blinked, his eyes flickering between Harry and the ring. “I — Harry— are you — really —.”

“I helped pick it out!” The girl chimed in with a grin.

“Did you now?” Louis asked, finding his voice. Harry could see tears gather in the corner of the man’s eye. “Definitely can’t say no now, can I?”

“Yeah?” Harry spoke, pulling the man’s attention back.

“Yes, Harold. Of course I’ll marry you.” Louis’ voice began to crack, one of the waiting tears escaping down his cheek. After placing the ring on Louis’ finger, Harry pulled the man closer for a kiss. Not that Harry didn’t already know in his gut that he and Louis would be spending forever together. It was still nice.

“Yay!”

The pair broke apart to the sight of the girl smiling and clapping her hands. “You gonna marry Daddy?”

Louis grinned. “Yep, I’m gonna marry Daddy.” He flicked his eyes to Harry, who took the hint. They both leaned forward, each kissing one side of the girl’s face, who let out a squeal of delight. Soon enough she wiggled out of their grasps, running off to her room leaving a trail of giggles.

As soon as Harry was sure the girl was gone, he scooted closer and threw a leg over Louis, lifting himself and straddling the man — his fiancé — taking the place his daughter had just vacated. He pressed their lips together once more, each trying hard not to break the kiss with their smiles.

“You’re lucky this match is a replay from last season,” Louis commented with a smirk as they broke apart, Harry trailing kisses along his jaw.

“Very lucky”, Harry murmured as he worked his way down to Louis’ neck, to that one little spot where he gave a nip, a small moan filling the space between them.

“I hate to break it to you though, so soon after getting engaged,” Harry said after a beat, as he pulled up, their eyes meeting once again. “You’re gonna be a Papa.”

Louis let out a sharp laugh, throwing his head back. “Kinda gonna miss her calling me Lou-Lou, though.”

“Mm, me too. It’s cute.” Harry lowered his head, pressing their foreheads together. He smirked a bit as he rubbed his nose to Louis’. “But you’re still my Daddy though, yeah?”

“Harold!”

**Author's Note:**

> If you caught the Dark Artifices and the Percy Jackson references, you are good people.
> 
> (There’s an After reference too, but the above two require dedication to their respective series to spot.)
> 
> Also, I in no way condone leaving your child alone in a car for any length of time, cool crisp autumn air or not.


End file.
